


Safe In Your Arms (But Not Yet)

by IcyPanther



Series: Shooting For the Stars (But Crashing Back Down) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Protective Hunk (Voltron), Rape Recovery, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: (SEQUEL) Lance just wanted to forget. To forget his hands, his touch, his voice. Forget the fear, the horror, the revulsion, theshame. But he couldn’t. And the sick feeling was only getting worse the closer he got to home. He had to tell his parents. He couldn’t keep this from them, couldn’t live with the guilt and silence. But he didn’t know if he could live with their disgust and disappointment either. And he is just as scared now as he had been then, especially as Wilde isn’t as out of the picture as he had thought. This nightmare is only just beginning. AU- College





	Safe In Your Arms (But Not Yet)

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** AU fic (college setting) that is a direct sequel to _Passing Grade_. READ THAT ONE FIRST!
> 
>  **Warning notes:** Nothing happens in this fic but there are references and discussions to rape and sexual assault from the previous fic also with the theme of rape recovery.
> 
>  **Additional notes:** There is quite a bit of Spanish in this fic, especially towards the end. I don’t translate in fic as I find it very jarring. Most of it you can likely get a general idea from context clues but otherwise I recommend loading up a translator (Google is pretty decent) if you are not familiar with Spanish. That said, here are a few repeated terms that are not “spoilers” that you will encounter: Mijo = my son (familial); Te amo = I love you (family member, friend); Lo siento (mucho) = I’m (very) sorry; Gracias = thank you; Dios = God

Lance was not ready to go.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

But he knew he had to. He couldn’t hide away in the dorm room as he had for almost the past week, stepping out only for the bathroom and when Shiro had picked him up twice to take him back to his apartment to use his bathtub as the doctor had recommended.

Lance could feel his cheeks coloring at just the memory. Shiro had been nothing but polite and kind, showing Lance how the taps worked and telling him to take as long as he wanted and Shiro would just be working in the main part of his studio apartment.

Lance had still locked the door, feeling both guilt and relief and then feeling guilty at the relief because it was _Shiro_ and Shiro was _safe_ but he still couldn’t shake the unease, the fear and worst,  the shame.

If anything that last one was growing worse.

Lance knew he had only himself to blame for it. He was the one hiding; figuratively and literally. He just…

Just wanted to forget.

Forget his hands, his touch, his kisses, his voice…

Forget the fear, the horror, the revulsion…

He couldn’t.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many showers (he was up to six soap bars now courtesy of Hunk and hot shame flared again every time he asked if he could have another one) he took he couldn’t forget.

He couldn’t talk about it either.

No.

That was wrong.

He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to remember any of it. He just wanted all of it to go away.

It wasn’t going away.

It would _never_ go away.

And it would only get worse when rumors began to circle.

Right now Wilde had been quietly put on leave from the Galaxy Garrison University pending the police investigation, but Hunk reported it wasn’t common knowledge. Most assumed, if they wondered at all, that he’d taken an early break for the holidays, but when he didn’t return for classes in January Lance knew people would begin to start asking questions.

Lance’s name was being kept private, both Detective Coran and Dr. Holt had assured him the day he’d gone to the police department, but so too was Wilde’s as, unfortunately, Detective Coran had told Lance, this would not be an easy to close case.

Lance was eighteen and therefore legally allowed to engage in sexual acts with a fellow adult and while the boxer shorts would prove that such an act had occurred they could not tell a story as to whether it had been done with consent or not.

Detective Coran, who insisted Lance just call him Coran, had said it would be Lance’s word against Wilde’s. If Wilde denied any claims of intercourse than the evidence would speak for itself, as Coran said he was positive the lab results would test in their favor, and while it would still be a messy case it would go in Lance’s favor and shouldn’t take very long to go to trial and then sentencing.

But…

But Coran didn’t think that would happen. He’d told Lance and Hunk and Shiro quietly that Wilde would admit to it and would say it was consensual. It would be his word against Lance’s and consent was very hard to prove. Especially, Coran’s voice had lowered, since Lance had technically agreed. However, Coran had hurried to say as Shiro’s expression had turned thunderous as Lance’s cheeks darkened and Hunk scowled, Lance had been coerced and manipulated into giving consent and that was the angle the police were focusing on. They’d requested Lance gather up all of his homework and tests and papers from Wilde’s class and they would be reviewing them along with Dr. Holt and another independent astrophysics professor to determine if the grades had been tampered with to the point where Lance had been pushed into failing when he had not been to create this situation for Wilde. Coran had told him, quietly but firmly, that Lance was not at fault here and he had done nothing wrong; he was the victim and he had been taken advantage of Wilde was the one who had committed a crime.

Lance had not felt better.

The police were further going to work with Dr. Holt and the GGU to obtain grade records of Wilde’s classes to see if there were other instances of students who had been failing and then moved to passing, who might have come from a similar financial situation as Lance’s after Lance had quietly told them of Wilde’s, “dime a dozen” comment when he’d quietly confronted Wilde that he’d done this before.

The hospital records would be of use too. Given what Lance had told him, Coran said it sounded as though there had been no precautions taken or any attempt to make Lance comfortable, earning a head shake with dark cheeks, and that the heavy tearing and injury would not be consistent with someone agreeing to consensual sex.

But even then it was not going to be a quick case, Coran had told him, eyes shadowed. It could take months, possibly years, to get through the courts and have Wilde charged. Their hope was they might find other students willing to speak and build up a case against Wilde to prove the manipulation, the blackmail, and then ultimately rape and sexual assault charges.

All of it just made Lance feel tired and sick.

The GGU had placed Wilde on leave and he was not allowed on campus during the initial investigation, but it was only going to be temporary, Dr. Holt had admitted. _He_ believed Lance, but it would take more than that for a twenty-one year tenured and well-respected professor to be decried by the university.

That, Dr. Holt had sighed, was unfortunately true for what Wilde had told Lance. And it was not that the university officials would not want to believe Lance, but…

Lance had winced and bowed his head.

But they wouldn’t want their name, their image, their _prestige,_ dragged through the mud and linked to Wilde’s name in a slander investigation if the allegations were not proven as true.

Lance had never seen Hunk get that angry before, palms smashing the table and _cracking_ the plastic. He’d apologized profusely after, shooting guilty looks to Coran, but the mustachioed detective had waved them away and said he’d been requesting a better table for years. The humor attempt had fallen flat and Coran had coughed and moved on although Lance appreciated it.

Coran said given the sensitive nature of the case and the university’s desire, via Dr. Holt, to see justice and make sure their students were _safe_ it was being pushed to the front of the department. Coran hoped they would have made substantial progress and located evidence of tampering with Lance’s grades along with any incriminating comments Wilde made himself during questioning to begin to build a real case and then close it with an arrest by the time Lance returned to GGU from the holidays.

Lance had the feeling Wilde would not be so easily caught. He hated how his hands had shook and hated more how Hunk’s gentle hand over his own had made him startle and tense before he’d accepted the tight squeeze.

For now, Coran and Dr. Holt had both instructed, Lance was to _rest_ and focus on his wellbeing while they began their investigation. His health and safety, Dr. Holt had told him, were his number one priority. He had told Lance to not worry about his finals for the semester and he would be given a passing grade for each class based on his earlier performances.

 _“You pass,”_ had echoed in Lance’s mind at the words along with the sensation of a kiss pressed to his head and it had taken all he had not to puke on the interview room table right then and there.

Such a feeling had not abated much even a week later.

He felt _sick_ by what he’d allowed Wilde to do, ashamed and disgusted and nauseated and _stupid_ and the feelings only grew when he thought about what would happen when break ended and Wilde wasn’t back on campus yet or the allegations had come out and people then _knew_ what Wilde had done and given his own behavior some more eagle-eyed students might start to suspect and then—

He’d barely scrambled out of Shiro’s tub in time to puke up what little breakfast he’d managed to get down that day.

It was far from the last time he vomited thinking on it either. It was why he wasn’t eating much, forcing down some of the light meals Hunk brought him from the cafeteria since he was avoiding it as he was everything else.

He couldn’t even summon up the courage to talk to Pidge or Keith. Not even on what had happened but for _anything._ He was terrified they’d find out, what they would think of him when they did.

Hunk and Shiro had been… been _beyond_ understanding and Lance still didn’t know how they could be like that. _He_ was ashamed of himself, blamed himself, and both of them had been insistent that this hadn’t been his fault just like Coran.

They were wrong though.

It was.

It was Wilde’s too, yes, but Lance had agreed to it. He’d known it was wrong. He’d known and he’d still done it.

Still let Wilde…

His stomach turned alarmingly and Lance swallowed thickly.

And he didn’t want to let anyone else find out.

Not…

Not even his parents.

The thought of them sent his stomach turning again and tears stinging his eyes.

They were going to be so disappointed in him.

He still had no idea what to tell them.

Even after a week of asking himself that question, curled up on his bed (and how could he have _ever_ believed Wilde, believed his lies and his threats and _why was he so stupid?)_  he didn’t know the answer.

This wasn’t something he knew he could hide from them, not for long. Mamá already knew something was wrong as he’d denied her two video chat requests (and normally he could not get enough of them even though they had to be careful not to go over their small minutes and data plan) and he knew his answers to her texts had been mediocre at best.

The last one she had sent, yesterday evening, had made guilt and shame burn anew.

_Espero que todo esté bien, mijo. No podemos esperar para verte y escuchar acerca de tu escuela. Abrazos y besos <3_

He’d forced himself to respond with a “can’t wait to see you too” and signed it with a heart even though for the first time in his life Lance didn’t want to see his family.

Because…

He couldn’t tell them.

And if he did want to...

What would he he say? Tell them he let himself be ra—?

He shuddered and his stomach turned.

He couldn’t even say it in his mind.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the word, what it meant, what it implied, what it made him remember.

How _small_ it made him feel.

They would be so disappointed.

They had scraped and saved and worked until Mamá’s hands shook and Papá’s eyes were red and they had been so _proud_ of him for being accepted into Galaxy Garrison University.

And now…

Now they would only be ashamed.

And he couldn't blame them. He was ashamed too.

He just…

He hadn’t wanted all of their sacrifices to go to waste and Wilde had sounded so _confident_ in his words that Lance had believed him. Believed that if he didn’t do this that he would fail, that he’d be kicked out and then all of it had been for nothing.

And then he’d let Wilde…

Lance wrapped his arms about himself in a hug but shuddered as his own touch turned into _his_ and he let his arms drop with a shiver, wincing as his hands brushed against his thighs and he felt a phantom hand draw down his leg and—

No.

Stop.

He couldn’t think about it.

A light knock sounded on the door and Lance jumped, heart racing.

“Lance, _hermano,_ can I come in?”

Hunk.

Just Hunk.

Hunk who had taken to knocking like a stranger to his own room after Lance had startled on Monday so bad he’d crashed into his desk and added a giant bruise to his knee to the ones that already littered his thighs and lower back from his hands and—

Guilt flared around the new crop of nausea Lance groaned and hunched over desperately willing himself not to be sick.

Apparently that was audible from the hall as Hunk opened the door without waiting for Lance to answer and he heard Hunk’s hitch of breath at the becoming far too familiar sight.

“Can I—?”

Lance was already nodding, heart in his throat with acid bile, and Hunk’s arms gently encircled him from the side and he guided them both to kneeling on the floor.

Lance didn’t know what he’d do without Hunk there.

He didn’t know how he was going to get through break without him.

And the irony, the fact that Hunk had been so nervous about leaving home he’d puked almost every day for a week leading up to leaving for GGU and then continued the trend when they arrived for the first few days, and now it was Lance feeling sick about going back home was almost funny.

But not really.

It wasn’t funny at all.

Not that, not the fact that somehow in the span of a week after a lifetime of friendship their roles had become so reversed. Hunk had always been comforting and Lance had definitely wound up in his arms plenty of times before, but it had always been a balance and now all he was doing was taking.

Hunk was going to get sick of it, sick of lying for Lance and telling Keith and Pidge that he was ill, and Lance was so afraid of what he would do when that happened.

It just made him shudder harder.

Hunk’s touch was nothing like _his_ , nothing like anyone else’s, and Lance burrowed into the large arms, pressing his face into Hunk’s chest.

He felt safe here.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hunk said quietly, one hand rubbing on his back through the thick hoodie that Lance had taken to wearing permanently. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

 _“Lo siento,”_ Lance managed after a minute, muffled.

Hunk had told him to stop apologizing the first twenty times and now all he did was let out a little sigh and hug Lance a little tighter. Lance’s stomach clenched with new guilt.

“My mom texted,” he said quietly. “Said she just got off the highway and will be here in about twenty. You… you ready to go?”

No. Not at all.

But he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer and so he gave a minute nod.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hunk repeated, giving him one last squeeze before releasing his arms and clambering to his feet.

They gathered up their luggage; a large suitcase and backpack for Hunk and a smaller duffel and Lance’s backpack, and began the trek to the visitor parking lot. They were one of the last ones to leave campus; both because Lance had wanted to avoid seeing as many people as possible and that Mrs. Garrett was coming from over three hours out during rush hour on a Friday before the holidays. Lance lived a few streets over from Hunk, although, he thought somewhat bitterly, it was practically a different world, and his parents had always been too proud to accept any help even from someone as well meaning as the Garretts. But they had been taken up their offer to pick Lance up and Lance was grateful; it meant he could put off what he was going to say for a few hours more.

He still had no idea.

There was no way he could keep it quiet, especially if the case and then trial dragged as Coran and Dr. Holt had sadly anticipated. They would _have_ to know.

Just…

He didn’t know how to tell them.

Hunk had already quietly told him he would be there if Lance wanted him when he talked to his parents and Lance had hesitantly nodded. He didn’t want to keep bothering Hunk, didn’t want to make him tired of having to deal with this, with him, but…

But he didn’t think he could do this without him.

Their trek to the parking lot was quiet, Lance’s hood pulled up to cover his already tucked down face and the weight of his duffel digging painfully into his shoulder. A few good byes and wishes for a good Christmas were called in their direction and Hunk returned them.

Lance hated how he felt tears stinging at the fact he couldn’t muster up the ability to do the same even though he knew he should because if Wilde was charged with the criminal sexual assault charges then Lance’s behavior would stick out like a sore thumb.

But his mask had broken, his attempts to tell himself he was fine were hollow. He was getting _worse_ instead of better and Lance was pretty sure he knew why, images of his parents flashing in his mind.

 _Dios,_ he didn’t know what to do.

A cheerful honk nearly startled him off the curb and Mrs. Garrett was pulling up a second later.

“Hunk, sweetie,” she greeted, getting out of the driver’s seat and rushing to embrace her son, laughing as Hunk picked her off her feet despite her own larger size with an excited, “Mom!”

As he put her back on her feet Mrs. Garrett turned to Lance, smile warm. “What, no hug for me?” she teased as Lance remained rooted to the curb. He shouldn’t have. He’d known Mrs. Garrett since he was seven, even before he’d learned English, and she had never been anything but kind and her hugs were almost as good as Hunk’s and she was starting to look concerned now and he had to say something—

“I’m sick,” he blurted out.

It wasn’t entirely wrong as his stomach was churning dangerously again.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie,” she apologized. “What a rough thing for finals, huh?”

Lance managed a nod.

“Well let’s get you all in and head out. You can close your eyes if you want to and get some rest, okay?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Garrett,” Lance said quietly, surrendering his duffel to Hunk to put in the trunk. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Let’s get you home so you can rest properly.”

“...yeah.”

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Hunk asked quietly as Mrs. Garrett moved to the driver’s side.

Lance shook his head. “No. I...I might lie down.”

He wasn’t tired at all, not in that way. But this way he could avoid being a part of any conversation.

Hunk reached a careful hand out and gave Lance’s shoulder a squeeze although his eyes looked worried.. “All right. But just say the word, okay?”

Lance gave a silent nod.

“You boys good with a quick stop at the coffee shop on the corner?” Mrs. Garrett asked as she pulled the car off the curb. “I have got to pee before another three hour trip and stretch a bit.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” Hunk replied for the both of them.

The car pulled into the busy parking lot a moment later and Mrs. Garrett rifled through her purse before handing Hunk some bills. “Go get something for you boys for the trip home. And I want an iced coffee with—”

“Four cream, six sugar and a shot of espresso, got it,” Hunk interrupted with a grin.

“Get,” his mom swatted his head playfully.

Hunk looked through the rearview to meet Lance’s gaze. “You okay to…?”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed quietly.

They weren’t likely to encounter any fellow students here and he had to stop hiding. Going to a coffee shop was hardly that big of a step but Lance hadn’t been with more than a few people since he’d forced himself to go to Wilde’s lecture and the classes and lunch last Friday, an entire week ago now.

He had to do this. Small steps.

He still hugged his arms about himself, making certain his oversized hoodie was fully pulled down over the seat of his jeans and his hands were tucked into the sleeves.

It was so out of character for him that it _hurt_ to think of what he had become. He’d normally be going in in a fitted shirt and stylish jacket, flirting with the cute barista behind the counter and trying to charm his way to a free pastry.

Now he just wanted to get in, get out, and be unnoticed.

It was his looks that had drawn Wilde’s attention in the first place and Lance had never regretted what he looked like more and the work he put into maintaining it. If he hadn’t…

_“So exquisite.”_

He hurried after Hunk as though he could run away from his memories.

The shop was relatively full, both the line and the tables. Lance got into place behind Hunk, who was scouring the menu board to make sure they had a white hot chocolate as he almost always got. Lance was normally the one who tried all the seasonal flavors even though he hated coffee, normally just getting them in steamed milk.

Today he didn’t want anything new.

Hunk seemed to be on his wavelength. “Chai tea?” he asked softly and Lance nodded. They were approaching the counter now and the barista was indeed pretty, her nametag reading Dawn.

Lance averted his gaze as she smiled at him and Hunk hurriedly stepped up to order before anything got awkward.

Lance stepped to the side by the receiving line and took in the patrons of the cafe, spotting a business meeting, a few older GGU students he didn’t recognize except for the fact one of them was wearing a labeled hoodie, a woman typing on her laptop and—

He choked on his next breath as piercing eyes met his gaze.

Wilde.

Here.

He was here.

Oh _Dios_ he was _here._

Wilde was standing up from his table, a smile playing over his lips, and Lance took a hurried step back.

He hit the counter.

Nowhere to go.

Oh _Dios. Dios Dios Dios._

Wilde was advancing, leaving the seating section and stepping onto the tile of the receiving area and Lance couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.

His pulse thundered in his ears and he felt hot breaths against his neck, hands tracing down his back before they gripped painfully about his hips, before—

“Lance,” Wilde’s voice was low, smooth, and clearly amused, and somehow completely audible despite the clamor all around them, which was going strangely mute as he tunneled in on Wilde.

 _“Lance,” his name was breathed, panted. “You are so_ exquisite. _So_ perfect.”

Lance whimpered.

No. _Dios_ no.

Wilde was close, so close, just a few feet away. His hand was reaching out, going for his cheek, fingers long and thin and they’d _hurt_ and—

Hunk shouldered his way in front of Lance, nearly cutting off his sight completely of Wilde.

Lance choked out a breath and the hum of the cafe grew loud once more about them.

“Don’t touch him,” Hunk hissed and a shiver ran Lance’s spine at how _angry_ Hunk sounded.

“Mr. Garrett—”

“Back off.”

Wilde never lost his smile but he did take a step back.

Not far enough.

Too close.

Still too close.

“I was merely saying hello,” Wilde continued and his gaze moved past Hunk to land on Lance over the broad shoulder.

Lance let out a sound between a gasp and a sob.

Hunk side-stepped and completely hid Lance from Wilde’s view.

“I said back off.”

Hunk’s shoulders were shaking and a fist was clenched at his side.

Hunk hated violence.

But he was…

Lance fisted his hands in the back of Hunk’s hoodie, as much to hold Hunk back from doing something he would regret and to try and still his own trembling.

“All right, all right,” Lance could picture Wilde holding up his hands. “No need cause a scene.” He let out a low chuckle that had Lance stiffening. “But let’s have some more fun again sometime soon, hm, Lance?”

Lance’s stomach bottomed out as Wilde let out another light laugh.

It was as Coran had worried.

Wilde would claim it was consensual. He would cover up any wrongdoing.

He…

He…

“Order for Hunk!” called out one of the employees over the sound of Wilde’s footsteps, so _loud,_ walking away.

Hunk didn’t move to get them. Instead he turned and pulled Lance into a tight hug and Lance buried his head into Hunk’s chest.

Oh _Dios._

He…

He was going to be sick.

“Breathe, _hermano,_ breathe,” Hunk murmured, rubbing his hands on Lance’s back.

Lance hiccuped out a breath.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Garrett’s voice sounded from behind. “What happened?”

“Um, Lance… Lance isn’t feeling well,” Hunk fumbled.

Lance bit back a sob.

Now Hunk was lying to his mom. Because of _him._ His stomach gave another roll.

“You poor thing,” and another hand landed on Lance’s shoulder above Hunk’s hold. Lance tried not to startle. “Hunk, sweetie, help him to the car and I’ll grab the order.”

Hunk steered him from the cafe, keeping himself firmly at Lance’s side and preventing him from catching even a glimpse of the eating area, and into the car, settling himself in next to Lance in the middle seat and buckling Lance in.

Oh _Dios._

Hunk brought an arm carefully about Lance’s shoulders and Lance leaned into it, pillowing his head on Hunk’s chest and clutching once more onto Hunk’s hoodie.

He’d been…

Right there.

He wanted…

Wanted…

Another sob broke free and he felt an ache deep inside that no hot bath could ever fix.

“I’m gonna sit with him,” Hunk said as Mrs. Garrett came to the car with the tray of drinks.

“All right, sweetie,” Mrs. Garrett said and Lance caught her concerned look before he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Hunk’s shoulder. “I’ll drive quick, okay sweetheart? You’ll feel better once you’re home.”

xxx

Lance did not feel better when they got to his house.

He felt worse.

At some point of the car ride he’d drifted off and had only awoken to Hunk gently shaking his shoulder and murmuring, breath hot on Lance’s ear.

Lance had clipped Hunk’s chin as he jerked up at the sensation and feeling the phantom whisper of Wilde’s touch.

Around his racing heart he’d apologized even as Hunk said his own and assured Lance he was fine and he hadn’t wanted to wake him but…

But Lance had been crying and whimpering and…

Lance’s face was wet with tears and he buried his head back against Hunk’s chest to hide them.

They’d pulled up to his home shortly thereafter and Lance had heard the door slam open and excited feet pattering the ground with calls of his name — his younger sister, Sara — and the more sedate steps of his mamá.

He  trembled in Hunk’s arms.

He didn’t know what to do.

Mrs. Garrett saved him for the moment, her voice filtering above his racing heart, that Lance wasn’t feeling well.

He pulled himself out of Hunk’s embrace and then from the car — couldn’t hide forever — and met his mamá’s matching gaze, who no doubt saw his flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh _mijo,”_ she murmured, stepping up to him and her arms wrapping tight about him. He sank into her embrace, the smell of cinnamon and tomatoes and _home_ , and her arms felt as safe as Hunk’s even though when she found out…

He swallowed thickly and tried to suppress the nausea coming back.

 _“Lo siento,”_ he whispered, forehead pressed against her shoulder.

He was so sorry.

He would never stop being sorry.

“No, no,” she patted his back. “Come. Let us go inside.”

_“Lo siento.”_

“I’ve got his stuff, Mrs. Esposito,” Hunk sounded from right next to him. “I’ll bring it in?”

“Oh, _gracias,_ Hunk. _Mijo,_ no more apologies, yes? Rest.” She patted his back and released him from the hug. “Sara, _ayuda a tu hermano.”_

Sara stepped into view, face pulled into a frown of concern. “You okay?”

No.

Not at all.

“Um,” Lance licked suddenly dry lips. “I, um…”

“Jeez, you are sick,” she interrupted, sending curls flying with her shake.

“ _Lo siento.”_

“Definitely sick. Come on, let’s put you in quarantine.”

Lance was grateful for his younger sibling’s blunt nature than, a more sarcastic version of their eldest sister Mamá always said, and the way she practically hustled him and Hunk into the small, old ranch-style home and down the hall to the small bedroom Lance used to share with his two older brothers but was now just him.

His bed had been freshly washed and made, faded space comforter pulled to the pillows and a quilt tenderly arranged on the foot of the twin-sized bed. Sara yanked back the covers with her no-nonsense attitude and ordered, “Get in.”

“Did you get bossier since this summer?” Hunk asked her, humor coloring his tone as he set Lance’s duffel and backpack on the unused bottom bunk bed mattress.

“And taller,” she smirked, not denying it. “A whole half inch.”

Lance listened to the two of them make small talk as he toed off his sneakers and dutifully climbed into the bed, letting it calm his racing heart even as it stuttered away.

That should be him. He should be scooping Sara up and twirling her around and asking how she’d gotten so tall in just four months and out there hugging Mamá and doing everything except what he was, which was hiding once more.

His chest hitched as he curled up under the covers and it came out a sort of broken cough and Hunk and Sara stopped talking immediately.

“Oh, _hermano,”_ Hunk laid a careful hand atop his raised shoulder.

“Um, I think we still have a few tums,” Sara said quietly. “And… and I think some cough suppressant. Maybe. I’ll go check.” Her tone turned bossier. “Stay there.”

“Hunk,” Lance whimpered, ocean eyes meeting honey brown as Sara left for the small bathroom down the hall. “I… I don’t think I can…”

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this to them.

“Shh,” Hunk soothed, his hand rubbing circles on Lance’s shoulder. “Just… just rest, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, voice small. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance repeated, feeling tears stinging his eyes and unable to stop them. “You’re… you’re gonna get s-sick…”

“Sick?” Hunk sounded confused as he knew Lance wasn’t ill, not in that way. “ _Hermano,_ what—?”

“Of me,” Lance choked out.

There.

He’d said it.

One of his worst fears.

Hunk sucked in a harsh inhale.

“Lance—”

“Okay, I found the suppresant, but—”

“Sara, could you get a cold washcloth?” Hunk interjected as Lance stiffened at his sister’s voice.“I think that’ll help the most.”

“Oh, sure. Be right back.”

“Lance,” Hunk’s voice was low. “ _Hermano,_ I will _never_ leave you. Never. No matter what.” The hand on his shoulder tightened, not painfully but firmly. “I’m here for you, always.”

Lance hiccuped on a sob. “I’m m-making you _lie,”_ he got out. “To your _mom._ And—”

“I’m not lying,” Hunk said. “You aren’t feeling well. And even if I was… I won’t betray your trust, Lance. I’ll never do that. I’m here for you, through all of this. Okay? Please, _por favor,_ believe me.”

Lance sniffled and opened watery eyes, finding Hunk’s gaze staring intensely but gently at him. He felt something uncurling somewhat in his stomach at the sheer _love_ that shone back at him, intermingled with concern and a touch of fear and desperation.

“‘kay,” he whispered. “But—”

“No buts. _Te quiero, hermano._ ”

Lance’s tears spilled back over. “ _T-te quiero.”_

At least…

At least no matter what happened he had Hunk by his side.

His stomach still churned with what was to come.

“Come on,” Hunk said gently, “let’s get you out of that hoodie. I think you’re overheating. You are pretty flushed, _hermano.”_

Lance forced himself to sit up, blanket falling away, and gingerly picked at the overlarge hoodie sleeves. He knew Hunk was right, but he’d been wearing the sweatshirt almost non-stop other than during his many showers and taking it off was like removing his shield.

As though a piece of clothing could protect him.

He’d already seen how that had failed.

“Lance,” Hunk’s fingers tapped lightly on his knee and Lance realized he’d zoned out. He felt his face grow even darker. “Hey, hey, _estás bien,”_ Hunk murmured. “It’s okay.”

They both knew it really wasn’t.

But…

But this was okay. This was safe.

No one was going to hurt him here.

Lance dug his fingers into the cuffs and shimmied it up and over, cooler air striking the patch of bare stomach as his shirt lifted with it and that propelled him to more quickly yank it off and tug his shirt back down, just as Sara came in bearing a folded washcloth.

Matching blue eyes met his and Lance hated how he could see the glimmer of fear in them.

He’d put that there.

“ _Estoy bien,”_ he managed, trying to muster up a smile.

“You’re an awful liar,” she told him although her own lips were twitching up.

Lance felt his stomach clench.

Yes. Yes he was.

“Is he contagious?” she turned to Hunk.

Hunk gave a shake of his head. “No. Just… just needs some rest. It’s been…” his voice grew softer. “It’s been a hard week.”

“I’ll bet,” she nodded. “At least you’re on break though. I still have school through next Thursday.”

“The horror,” Hunk deadpanned and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Lance, I gotta get going,” Hunk straightened from his crouch. “You… you call if you need _anything,_ got it?”

“ _Sí,”_ Lance whispered, slipping back down under his blankets. Sara unceremoniously placed the washcloth on his head and he winced at both the cold and wetness and the suddenness of the movement, but Sara smoothed it gently over his head, more tender than she normally was.

Lance’s eyes closed to hide the newest sting of tears trying to break free at the gesture.

“I’ll take care of him,” she promised Hunk.

“I know you will,” Hunk said softly. “I’ll see you later, _hermano. Adios,_ Sara.”

His heavy footsteps exited a moment later and Lance felt such a sharp pang of loss that it physically hurt and he groaned, curling up around his stomach.

“ _Dios,_ I am never going to college,” muttered Sara. “Look at what it’s done to you.”

Done to you.

Lance wished this had been from finals, from actual school.

He couldn’t quite hold in the choked sounding sob.

“Oh wow,” Sara’s hand descended on Lance’s raised shoulder and although he stiffened he tried to relax under it before he freaked her out anymore because he was not acting as her older brother, not one bit. “That bad, huh?”

“You…” Lance tried to speak around the tears clogging his throat. Normal. He had to act normal. “You… you will go to college.”

Just not this one.

“Yeah, at twelve I’ve already picked it out,” she teased but she didn’t sound as worried now.

Good.

“Anything I can do?” she asked.

Lance shook his head against the pillow, still facing away from her.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Get some sleep then, okay?”

“ _Gracias,_ Sara.”

Her lighter footsteps pattered away and the bedroom door closed with a soft thump.

Lance brought his hands up to cover his mouth to muffle the shuddering sobs, the reminder of Wilde’s voice, the realization that this was _never_ going to be over, that were breaking free now that he was alone.

He cried himself to sleep.

xxx

Lance spent the weekend hiding away in his room claiming illness and given his constantly red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks and nausea and sluggish movements his parents fully believed him.

It just made the guilt churn worse.

He knew he needed to talk to them. Trying to convince himself Sunday morning in the shower that he was fine just as he had the morning after had only showed him now _not_ fine he was after his own hands brushing over bare skin had sent him into a near panic attack that left him huddled in the corner of the shower for almost an hour until Mamá had knocked on the door and asked if he was all right.

He’d choked out a yes that he knew she didn’t believe but she didn’t push him for answers, then or later. She always let him come to her at his own time and this was no exception.

All she did was sit with him when she got home from work, petting his hair and singing softly and filling him in on what his three older siblings and Sara had been up to (working, always working).

He could feel the tremble to her hand then, see how _tired_ she was and guilt ate him anew that she was working so hard, Papá too to where Lance had barely seen him save for Friday night when Papá had come in to welcome him home and press a kiss to his head that Lance had physically  had to restrain himself from recoiling from. He had sounded exhausted too.

He couldn’t hurt them like this.

He couldn’t tell them.

But he _had_ to.

Because all he was doing was hurting himself.

He had been actively avoiding his phone  — the unread text notifications from Pidge and Keith making him feel worse — except to briefly text Hunk a couple times although it was nothing of note; more of just a check-in.

It was why Sunday evening when he’d _called_ Hunk his best friend had picked up before the first ring had even sounded.

_“I can’t tell them,” Lance had whispered, “but I… I have to. I…Hunk, I…”_

_“I know,” Hunk’s voice had been heavy. “Do… do you want me to be there?”_

_“Por favor.”_

Mondays were his papá’s day off from work at the grocery store and his second job, as a brick layer for a landscape company, had taken off the next two and a half weeks for the holidays. Mamá worked _all_ the time, seven days a week when she could and if the demand was there, but she always made Monday mornings a free time so her and Papá could spend time together. Sara was at school.

He…

He couldn’t hide anymore.

Lance had forced himself to get dressed, still tugging on the oversized hoodie that Mamá had freshly laundered for him yesterday while he’d been in the shower, and then waited by the door for Hunk to arrive, far too nervous to try and eat breakfast especially as his parents were gathered in the kitchen.

And after he'd heard them talking.

About him.

_“Estoy preocupado, Javier,” Mamá had said softly._

_“Yo también,” had come Papá’s rumbled response._

_“Algo está mal con Lance. Pero él no me habla y… y no tenemos el dinero para un doctor. Si él está enfermo…”_

_“Yo sé.”_

Lance had hurried away before he overheard anymore, stomach twisting.

A quick knock on the front door had Lance yanking the door open and the sight of Hunk standing on the doorstep, large and _safe_ and _understanding_ , had Lance surging forward for a hug that Hunk had tightly returned.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Lance’s hands tightened in the folds of Hunk’s jacket on his back.

“What… what if they…?”

He couldn’t live with the guilt, with this sick feeling.

But he didn’t know if he could live with their disgust and disappointment either.

He shook.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Hunk repeated. His arms squeezed Lance tight before they released although he kept one hand arm about Lance’s shoulders. “Let’s… let’s go.”

Hunk let Lance lead the way to the kitchen although with each step his feet felt heavier.

He still had no idea what he was going to say.

Lance’s footsteps despite his mounting unease were light but Hunk’s were loud and his parents were both looking in the direction of the doorway when they appeared.

Mamá’s eyes flicked from his face and then to Hunk, confused but also concerned.

“Hunk,” she smiled.

“Hi Mrs. Esposito, Mr. Esposito,” Hunk inclined his head. He said nothing else but gave Lance’s shoulder a small squeeze.

“I, um,” Lance started, paused, feeling his parents’ gazes and lowering his own eyes. “I… I need to, to talk to you.”

“Of course, _mijo,”_ Mamá said gently. “Sit, sit.”

His parents were sitting together on the same side of the table, too big for the small kitchen, and Lance tentatively sank into the seat across from Mamá and Hunk next to him and across from Papá, arm moved now to lightly rest on his back.

He kept his hands tucked in his lap and his eyes trained on the table, tracing the pattern in the wood.

The kitchen clock ticked loudly in the silence.

“Something…” Lance licked dry lips. “Something happened. At school.”

No one spoke.

“I… I was failing one of my classes,” Lance continued, hating how he could feel their eyes widen. “And… and…”

“Failing?” Papá repeated.

Lance ducked his head further down.

He had never thought his grades for astrophysics had been that bad, but he’d never argued the red pen and low scores.

Now…

Now he wondered how different it would have been if he had.

“The… the professor,” Lance winced at even that acknowledgement. “He said I would… would go on academic probation because of it.”

“Oh, _mijio,”_ Mamá murmured.

Lance wondered if she would still say the same when he was finished.

“He said… said he had a solution so I would p-pass.”

 _“You pass,”_ echoed in his head and he felt lips descend once more on his head while a hand brushed along his back and he could feel the scratchy couch pressing on bare skin and—

He hunched forward with a choked sob and Hunk shifted his hand and arm from Lance’s back, as if knowing right now the touch was doing more harm than good, and settled it to rest very lightly on the back of Lance’s arm; there but not summoning up any memories.

Lance could hear Papá clearing his throat and although he didn’t see it he knew Mamá had reached a hand out, pausing him from interrupting.

Lance’s cheeks were darkening now, shame painting them as his tongue tripped over itself in both a hurry to get the words out and wanting to keep them locked inside for forever.

“I went to his office and… and he told me he’d pass me if…” Lance swallowed and whispered the next part, barely audible to even himself.. _“_ _Si ... si tuviera sexo con él.”_

 _“¿Qué?”_ Mamá sounded horrified. “Lance, _mijo,_ no. No.”

“You did not,” Papá’s voice was flat, edged with something Lance didn’t want to think on. “Lance, you did not.”

Lance did not respond.

His silence was telling enough.

Hunk’s hand tightened imperceptibly on his arm.

Papá’s fist shook the table.

“¿ _No tienes vergüenza_?” he asked quietly. Harshly. “¿ _No tienes vergüenza_?” he repeated louder and Lance flinched, tears stinging his eyes. “Have you no shame?” he switched to English as though it needed said again, even louder.

Lance looked up then and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Papá looked…

Looked so _angry._

“Papá—”

“No! _No hables.”_

Lance’s mouth snapped shut. Hunk was tense next to him and his grip was somewhat painful on Lance’s arm.

Lance welcomed that pain.

It helped mask the breaking feeling of his heart.

Papá… Papá was _disgusted_ with him. Ashamed.

Lance deserved it. He’d done this.

“Where was your pride?” Papá asked. “ _¿Dónde,_ Lance _? ¿Dónde_?”

Lance shuddered, tears beginning to trek down his cheeks.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

He’d been _scared._

“Did you even think of your family?” Papá demanded. “Did you?”

“P-Papá—”

“No!” and it came out a roar that time and Papá shoved himself up from the table, chair screeching on the floor. “No excuses! There is no excuse! You… You have shamed me, Lance. To think you would… would do _that.”_

“Papá,  _please_ —”

Papá’s hands struck the table, so hard they sent the salt and pepper shakers rolling, crashing to the floor with a shattering of broken glass. “No!”

Lance recoiled.

“Javier! That is enough!” Mamá’s tone was sharp. “í _Calmáte!”_

Papá turned to her. “ _¿Calmáte?”_ he repeated, voice shaking. “ _¿Calmáte?_ No!” A shaking finger was pointed at Lance. “ _Nuestro hijo…_ ” He broke off with a shake of his head.

Dark brown eyes, normally so warm, so calm, met Lance’s, and with another shake of his head he stalked over to the back kitchen door, threw it open so hard it rattled, and stormed outside into the backyard.

The clock ticked in the silent kitchen until Lance let out a shuddering sob.

Papá had…

Mamá’s chair screeched back too and Lance flinched.

No.

Not her too.

Please no.

Not her—

Hands wrinkled and worn from years and years of hard labor descended atop his own in his lap.

“Lance, _mijo, mírame_ _,”_ she commanded gently.

He shook his head, tears splattering to land atop her hands.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t see the same shame and anger that had colored Papá’s face.

“ _Mírame.”_

“Lance, _hermano,”_ Hunk’s hand had moved to go about his shoulders. His voice shook. “It’s… it’s okay.”

Lance tentatively lifted his eyes up. Mamá’s hovered directly in front of his own as she crouched at his side.

There was no anger in her eyes. Confusion and hurt and fear and pain but no anger.

And most of all…

Concern.

For him.

“Mamá,” he whispered. “Mamá, _lo sien_ —”

She cut him off as her hands moved from his lap to wrap about his shoulders and gently tug him to her.

Lance slipped off the chair and moved into her embrace, finding himself kneeling on the kitchen floor.

“ _Te quiero,”_ she murmured and Lance hiccuped a sob against her neck. “ _Te quiero, mijo, mi Lance. Todo estará bien.”_

 _“Lo siento,”_ he choked out. _“Lo siento mucho. Estuve_ _estúpido. Tuve miedo. Lo siento mucho.”_

“No, no,” she shushed. “You are not stupid, _mijo._ Never.”

Lance let out another broken cry and buried his face into her shoulder to muffle it.

She held him while sobs shook his shoulders and tears soaked into her shirt. Lance was vaguely aware of Hunk moving about the kitchen behind them; fixing the table so they had more room and then locating the broom and dustpan to clean up the broken shakers, but he couldn’t pry himself out of her arms even as his back began to ache and his legs began to tingle painfully.

It was only when he felt Mamá shift somewhat uncomfortably that he pulled back and she let him although her hands moved to clasp at his after he’d shakily stood.

“Come,” she said, nodding her head at him and then Hunk. “We go sit.”

She led them to the family’s small living space, two floral patterned couches that had seen better days but were clearly loved taking up the majority of the room and she sat Lance down on the smaller one in the corner and sat next to him, indicating for Hunk to take the ottoman poof directly in front of them both.

“ _Háblame,”_ she said, looking between his face and Hunk’s. “What has happened?”

Lance shook his head and turned pleading eyes to Hunk’s.

“Is that all right?” Hunk asked him quietly, although the question was directed to his mamá too.

Lance gave a jerky nod.

“Please,” she turned her gaze to Hunk although her hand remained intertwined with Lance’s. “What happened to my son?”

Hunk quietly explained how the professor, Wilde, had made Lance believe if he didn’t do… do _that_ then he would be expelled. Lance had tried to leave, Hunk had said, reaching a hand out and squeezing Lance’s knee gently, but Wilde had convinced him that this was the only way to stay enrolled at Galaxy Garrison University and if he flunked out then all of the efforts his family had put in would be for nothing. Mamá had stiffened at that but not interrupted.

Lance had.

“ _Stupid,”_ he’d muttered.

 _“Scared,”_ Hunk had corrected.

Wilde had used that, Hunk said softly, had used the fact he had done this multiple times before and gotten away with it to coerce Lance into doing the same.

Lance kept his eyes averted the entire time, feeling his face still darken, but Mamá had not let go of his hand and only squeezed it tightly.

He didn’t go into any further detail than that and Lance’s stomach had unclenched the tiniest bit.

Hunk further went on to say that he had found out, had gotten a trusted older student and adult involved, and Lance had told them what had happened. They’d gone to the hospital, to the police, and now the university was aware of it and an investigation was ongoing… and that was about it.

“ _Mijo,”_ Mamá murmured in the ensuing quiet. “Are… are you still in pain? Do you need to see a doctor?”

Lance shook his head, eyes stinging again.

“And this...this _man,_ he is… is not in jail?”

The vehemence in her tone surprised Lance and he lifted his head to see anger, but unlike Papá’s not directed at him, flashing over her features.

“Not yet,” Hunk said quietly. “The police said it could take a while.”

Months. Years.

He could be back on campus sometime next spring even if the investigation hit a standstill.

Lance shuddered.

“Not acceptable,” Mamá nearly growled. “No. That man hurt my son. He… he…”

“You’re…” Lance swallowed. “You’re not mad? At m-me?”

“Mad at…? No. No, Lance, no. Never.” One of her hands came up to land on his cheek and turn his head in her direction. “No, _mijo._ You were hurt. You were scared.” Her own voice broke. “I am so sorry, _mijo._ I am sorry that happened. I am sorry you thought that we…that we would…”

That they would ever want him to do that to stay in school.

He’d been so stupid.

“I messed up,” Lance whispered. “I… I did. I was stupid. I thought… I thought…” He shook his head. “And now Papá…” A tear made its way down his cheek. “Papá _h-hates_ me. He…”

“Your father was wrong,” Mamá said softly, brushing away the tear. “And _he_ is the stupid one. He does not hate you, _mijo,_ I promise. He is just…” she sighed, sounding so _tired._ “I will speak to him,” she said. “He did not hear the rest. He does not yet understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said quietly. “I… I didn’t mean to. I just…You and Papá worked _so hard_ and I… I was going to throw it away. Because of a grade. Because I was _stupid._ But… But what I did...was, was even…”

More stupid.

This had been a mistake that could _never_ be fully fixed.

“No, no,” Mamá soothed. “No, _mijo._ Do not think that. Do not believe that of yourself. _Tu eres mi estrella, mijo. Ahora y siempre._ ” She cupped his cheek and he leaned into the hold, closing his eyes.

“ _Lo siento.”_

 _“_ Shh, no, no more apologies. No more. You have done no wrong, _mijo.”_

“But I did,” Lance met her gaze, barely. “I d-did. I should have never…”

He should have walked out like he’d wanted to.

He should have known his family wouldn’t want him to do this, to hurt himself.

And since he had...

He should have hidden it better, not told Hunk and Shiro.

He stiffened.

Even now he…

He was trying to cover what Wilde had done.

“It is done,” Mamá said firmly, interrupting his newest churning bout of thoughts and nausea. “We move forward now. Only forward.Together. ¿ _Entiendes?”_

Lance remained quiet.

Mamá’s hand that was still intertwined with his one squeezed it. “¿ _Entiendes?”_

She…

She meant it. Lance could feel it. Her words, her care, her anger at Wilde and none at him. Her sadness and pain and confusion and hurt. But she was here for him, she wasn’t judging him for what he had done, for how stupid his decision had been.

“ _S-sí_ ,” Lance choked out.

“ _Bueno_ _,”_ her thumb brushed his cheek.

She sat forward then and stood. “I am going to speak to your father and we will be back soon. Hunk, you will stay?”

“Of course.”

She leaned forward then and pulled Hunk into a hug that he returned and Lance heard her murmuring something to him although he couldn’t make out any word except “ _gracias.”_ When she stepped away Hunk’s eyes were shiny and his lip was trembling.

He got up though from his seat and sank into the spot Mamá had vacated.

Lance carefully held his hand out and Hunk took it in his larger one and slipped the other about Lance’s shoulders, tugging him in close.

Lance let out a soft sigh, too tired to cry anymore, and pressed his cheek against Hunk’s chest.

“You doing okay?” Hunk asked quietly, just as they heard the back door open and close with a quick snap.

“I… I don’t know.”

He didn’t. He’d known, he’d told himself, that most people wouldn’t be as understanding as Hunk and Shiro. He’d… he’d been lucky. But even so… this was his family. He’d thought they…

But Papá…

Lance couldn’t blame him either.

It was shameful. It was a huge blow to their pride, their honor. Not only for what he’d done but with who.

Lance now knew firsthand why so many males didn’t report r— Report _that_. It was shameful. And the fact he had just… just _offered_ himself up.

Worse.

So much worse.

He almost wished he’d broken the other family values and gotten drunk at a party, had it happen there. At least then…

Then…

He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

Why had he let it happen at all?

“I…” Hunk paused and Lance felt his throat bob with indecision. He gave him a little nudge needing something, _anything,_ to focus on. “I think you did the right thing,” Hunk continued quietly. “Telling your parents.”

“My papá…” Lance sniffled, putting the image of the angry, _disgusted_ man with the one who had given Lance piggyback rides and taught him how to play fútbol and had always been a quiet voice of reason when Lance had come home, bruised and bloodied, from school for standing up to the bullies who had mocked his accent, his attempts at English or had belittled Hunk. They couldn’t be the same person and yet… yet they were.

“He’s upset,” Hunk’s hand rubbed a circle on his shoulder. “And scared. But he was wrong, Lance. Wrong to say those things to you.”

Lance didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either and so he kept quiet, feeling Hunk’s heart beat below his ear and taking comfort in the steady rhythm and the continued gentle strokes to his shoulder.

The kitchen door creaked open.

Lance tensed and his hand tightened in Hunk’s.

Mamá and Papá appeared in the living room entrance. Lance ducked his head down, afraid to look at their faces.

“Hunk,” Mamá called. “Come with me, _por favor.”_

Hunk’s hand tightened on Lance’s shoulder. As though he needed to protect Lance here, from his own family.

“Go,” Lance found himself whispering. “I’ll…”

He couldn’t say he’d be okay.

But he needed to do this.

“Okay,” Hunk murmured. He moved slowly, reluctantly, and Lance felt the couch shift next to him as Hunk stood and Lance moved more into the corner, leaning into it instead of against Hunk.

Papá didn’t sit next to him, taking the ottoman in front, and making no effort to reach out.

Lance didn’t know what to think of that.

His shoulders shook without permission.

He heard Papá’s inhale and he spoke before he could.

“ _Lo siento,”_ he pushed out, voice thick. “ _Lo siento,_ Papá. _Lo siento mucho. Metí la pata. Estuve estúpido. Pero…_ _pero yo también tuve miedo. Y… Y…”_

“Lance, no. _No más. No más disculpas.”_ Large, callused hands reached out and gently picked up Lance’s. Lance’s breath hitched. “ _Soy yo quien lo siento.”_

“Papá—”

“ _No hables,”_ Papá said, but unlike last time it was a mere whisper, a plea rather than an order. _“Por favor. Déjame hablar.”_

Lance fell silent.

“ _Lo siento_ ,” Papá murmured. _“Estuve equivocado hablar esas costas._ _Yo… Yo también tuve miedo.”_

Papá cleared his throat, voice going lower. “I was scared, Lance. I was upset. And angry. And ashamed, yes. I could not believe my son would… would…”

Lance’s cheeks flamed.

At least…

At least this time Papá wasn’t yelling.

Lance almost wished he would.

“But I am the one who is ashamed. Ashamed of myself.”

Lance started.

What?

“I accused you of not caring about our family,” Papá continued. “I did not listen when you tried to explain. I could not see how much you were hurting, _mijo._ I was wrong. You cared so much about our family that you…” His hands tightened. “You cared so much that you… you _hurt_ yourself. _Dime._ If… if Hunk had not discovered this, you would have kept silent, yes?”

 _“Sí,”_ Lance whispered after a moment.

He would have.

He had never wanted anyone to know.

“But you told the truth when confronted,” Papá said quietly. “And because of it… that… that _monster_ will face justice. And the only shame I feel now is that I did not see your bravery, your courage and your desire to protect our family.” His voice lowered to barely a whisper. “ _Espero que algún día me puedas perdonar.”_

Papá was… was asking for _his_ forgiveness?

No. That wasn’t right.

Lance shook his head. “No, Papá. I… _por favor, no. No te disculpes, no a mí.”_

“I hurt you,” Papá murmured. “I hurt you with my words when you were so brave to say them. I am so sorry, _mijo._ But I will be there for you now.” His hands retracted and Lance jerked his head up, to see Papá with his arms open wide.

Lance didn’t hesitate, pushing himself off the couch and into the hold, fingers tangling in Papá’s jacket while arms came to rest firmly around his back. Papá rocked them both back and forth.

Tears that apparently weren’t extinguished yet stung his eyes and Lance let out a muffled sob into Papá’s shoulder.

But it wasn’t sad.

It wasn’t happy either.

It was…

Relief.

The nausea that had been plaguing him, the guilt pressing in on his heart, had lifted.

He felt like he could finally breathe.

The cries came loud and hard then, more breathless gasps than anything, and Papá continued to hold him, rock him, and murmur nonsense into his ear.

A different hand touched atop his head a few minutes later — Mamá, he identified — and another one settled on his shoulder — Hunk.

And even with all of the touches, the press of bodies, he felt…

He felt _safe._

Mamá’s hand carded through his hair, completely unlike Wilde’s distorted caress, and he canted his head towards it.

“We are a family,” Mamá said, softly but fiercely. “And we will always be here for you, Lance. We will all get through this and we will protect you, _mijo._ We will _never,”_ her voice cracked, “ _never_ allow you to be hurt again.”

And it wasn’t an apology that spilled from Lance’s lips then, the litany of guilt and fear.

It was thanks.

“ _Gracias,”_ he whispered. “ _Gr-gracias.”_

Because he wasn’t afraid anymore.

He was still scared, yes, knew the nightmares and memories would not so easily go away. He knew this was far from over, that there would still be things that happened that hurt, that made him cry, that would terrify him, but…

But he wouldn’t go through any of it alone.

He had his family around him, loving him, supporting him, wrapped up in their arms and gentle hands.

And their holds, their kindness and love and safety, spoke louder than any of Wilde’s whispers, of his phantom touches.

He was safe here.

And with his family around him…

He would get through this.  

**Author's Note:**

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> **Stop!** Are you enjoying this work? (I hope so!) This fic is indeed part of a series but you don't have to wait until the very end to leave a comment. If you are enjoying this series please do leave one (or two or three ♥) as you go along. Your author appreciates it. Thank you! ♥
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> A commission (10k) request by the original commissioner of _Passing Grade_ for a sequel that detailed Lance talking to his parents, an encounter with Wilde (and I shouldn’t laugh but it sounds like a Pokemon battle xD) and some more platonic Hance goodness. It’s me so in addition to that we got plenty of more backstory for how the charges and investigation are going to go, which sets up the scene for a lot of the drama and angst that Lance encounters throughout this fic. Working for the police department has some perks and it’s always nice to use real life experience in a fic.
> 
> I was a little torn on this fic as I really loved how _Passing Grade_ finished (just like _So Much to Offer_ xD) but I’m really happy with how this piece adds to the world here. Lance’s family is so important to him that it makes logical sense to bring it all back home, literally.
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts on the fic. Please drop a comment below, _por favor y gracias!_


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